


Perfection is just a word

by Overworked_Constellations



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Caring Greg Lestrade, Jim Moriarty Being an Asshole, John Watson Saves Sherlock Holmes, John Watson Saves the Day, M/M, Moriarty is Alive, Possessive Behavior, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Doubt, Self-Hatred, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes Angst, Sherlock Holmes Has Feelings, Sherlock Holmes is Bad at Feelings, Teen Jim Moriarty, Teen John Watson, Teen Molly Hooper, Teen Mycroft, Teen Sherlock
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-19 16:16:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19136224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Overworked_Constellations/pseuds/Overworked_Constellations
Summary: Sherlock isn't very good with emotions so when he gets into a relationship with Moriarty it doesn't go well. Moriarty takes advantage of his weakness and uses it against him and poor Sherlock doesn't  understand the difference between fear and love.First chapter is confusing but second chapter will explain how everything led up to this point uwu





	Perfection is just a word

**Author's Note:**

> Its currently 5am and i haven't slept soooo, it probably makes zero sense.
> 
>  
> 
> Trigger Warnings! 
> 
> Yelling  
> Non-consensual choking  
> Confinement

Despite being the only one who knew of his whereabouts he couldn't help but feel dread strain his heart, a fire sparking in his lungs with each shaky breath that left those slightly chapped lips of his. His hands moving over each fabric of clothing, fingers catching under the loop of his trousers, his index wrapping around to hook it close, tugging it up slightly with his belt. It didn't matter if he hadn't been able to sleep or speak because if he was there it was okay. If he was happy and content then he would be as well. A soft sigh escaping him, buttons on his shirt pressing further into the hole they were placed in as his chest rose only to fall back comfortably as it unevenly fell once more.

The door slamming was what dragged him from his thoughts, the very wall's that stood around him shook from the force but he knew logically the foundation would be stable enough to withstand a few violent vibrations. Straightening his posture his hands found themselves on his thighs, head cocked up to stare at the man before him, his hair sweeping over those once bright green eyes just to cover and shield them from their beholder.

"My dear, what have I said about staying up for so long," A voice as smooth as silk made his ears ring but he still strained to listen to every word that left those red lips he's all too familiar with. "When I'm at work you're supposed to sleep because you know how busy your day's get," Perhaps he should be taking his words into consideration but the thought of not being able to see him when he gets home shook him to his core, the thought of missing out on being able to make himself useful left a disgusting taste in his mouth.

It didn't take more than a glance to notice the look of disgust that settled across that slightly freckled expression. With a huff he flicked his hand, gaining his attention once more. "Sherlock," he said with more authority which easily gained said man's attention once more. "Bed, now," He instructed and in a blink of an eye, Sherlock was seated on the bed that was only a few feet behind him. The walls were a beautiful deep, royal blue while the plastic glow in the dark stars danced across the ceilings just waiting for night to shine, to show off the talent they were born with. A wooden desk rested beside the bed, small nick-knacks across the top, different books settled in an disorderly fashion on the shelves. Beside the door there was a dresser, the bottom drawer pulled out slightly with a shirt hanging over the end but they'd worry about that later because for now there was a task at hand. A simple one, get Sherlock to sleep.

"Are you laying down as well?" The voice of question caught him off guard, causing his actions to slow as he reached out to grab the crumbled up blanket in the corner of the queen mattress they both shared. "Apologies sir," Sherlock's voice had trailed off once he saw the others reaction, his own words echoing in his ears. With a click of his tongue, he unraveled the blanket with haste before laying it over Sherlock who was already laying down with a sad expression that his boyfriend didn't want to nap with him. But it was an expression he hated.

"Hey, don't give me that. I'm home now and taking care of you, isn't that enough?" His voice was now harsher, feeling disgraced. "Or do you need more, is all of this not good enough for you?" Granted he was furious. Was Sherlock upset, after how good he has been treated compared to the other? He's been treated like a damn god here and this is the thanks he gets? There was no way in hell was he getting away with that, after everything that's happened. 

"Moriar-" Sherlock's words had easily been cut off by the sudden hand around his neck where there were already dark bruises, but he was thankful there was no pressure, yet. A whine fell from him as he loosened in his grip, knowing better than to try and fight back. "I a-apologise sir," he corrected himself with the knowledge that excuses will only worsen the situation for him. 

"Good pet, you know better than to call me that," Moriarty's voice was sharp and cunning as normal, but now with a sense of edge and danger, a tone that sent shivers down the spine of the other. "I have given you everything, done everything for you and you treat me like this?" At even the slightest quiver of Sherlock's lips that indicated he was about to speak his fingers pressed down the sides of his throat, which made him stop from pursuing any action. "Did I allow you to speak? No, I didn't think so," He growled as he shoved Sherlock back onto the bed, earning a startled gasp his back hit the pillows. "Bad pet's get punished don't they?" Moriarty mused as his heavy footsteps made Sherlock aware he was by the door since he was still laying down.

'Punished,' A simple word sent Sherlock's mind racing, every other memory and conversation flashing before him despite them all ending the same way. "No, wait!" He called but his plea fell on deaf ears as his bedroom door was shut and locked, receding steps echoing in his head which just served as a reminder he was alone. By himself, in the room with no one, again. "No," he whined out, stumbling to his feet as he raced to the door, fists pounding against it as he tried to open it but he knew as much as he tried it wouldn't open. He was stuck here alone until Moriarty returned home.

"Please..not again," Sherlock mumbled as his back slid down the door until he was on the floor, knees hugged closer to his chest with his face hidden in his hands. Why couldn't he be good enough? He never was good with emotions but he understood Moriarty was upset at the moment because his own actions were uncalled for, he understood Moriarty loved him. After all, the words have been mumbled to him a total of four times in the past year of their relationship. Moriarty as being the only one to tell him such, the only one that's showed him what love was, the only one that helped him through everything even if it was harsh. But he was still here so he was fine. Plus he loved Moriarty, right? 

His lack of knowledge of emotion's was failing him but he couldn't tell love from fear, but he was trying his best, even if he was learning the hard way.


End file.
